“Dad?”
He glanced up with a frown. “What?”
“If you don’t trust the county sheriff’s office, what about calling the FBI? They know how to handle kidnappings.”
He glared at her. “Did the feds find Riley?”
“They were called in late—”
“Yes, and I remember the guy they finally sent down here.” He gave a derisive snort. “Fresh out of Quantico. Green behind the ears. About as useful as any of Porter Brannon’s idiot deputies.”
“I just think—”
Jackson had been pacing in front of the window, but now he stormed over to her chair and got in her face. “Enough, Rae! No cops means no cops. Local, federal or otherwise. You heard what Dad said. This time we take care of things our way.”
Rae put up a hand warning her brother to back off. “Our way? What does that even mean?”
“It means we get on the same page right this very minute.” West’s gaze swept the study with steely resolve. “Nothing we say leaves this room. Are we clear on that?”
“I understand how you feel,” Rae said. “But even if we come up with the ransom, there’s no guarantee they’ll let Sophie go. We need backup. We’re taking an awfully big risk not bringing in the authorities.”
Jackson gave her another contemptuous glance. He’d retreated a few steps, but he still hovered. “Don’t cross us on this, Rae. You always think you know better than anyone else, but this is not your decision to make. You’ve already done enough without going behind our backs to the cops.”
“I’m not going behind your back. Since when am I not entitled to an opinion?”
West leaned forward. “Do you trust me? Forget this ridiculous feud with your brother. Do you trust me?”
She sighed. “Of course I trust you, Dad.”
“Then believe me when I tell you we’d be taking a far bigger risk by calling in the authorities. For all we know, someone could be watching the ranch at this very moment. They may even have planted surveillance inside the house. If we call the cops, they’ll know it.”
“They?”
“I got the impression more than one person is involved in this thing. It’s likely we’re dealing with professionals.”
Her father was starting to sound paranoid, but Rae couldn’t help glancing around the room with another shudder. Jackson was back at the window staring out at the garden. He’d distanced himself from the conversation, but Lauren clung to every word. She seemed fascinated by the back-and-forth.
“Something you want to add?” Rae couldn’t help asking.
“What’s there to add? West is absolutely right. It would be a mistake to bring in the police.”
He spared her a withering glance. There had never been any love lost between West Cavanaugh and his daughter-in-law, so he wasn’t likely to be swayed by her truckle. After a moment, he dropped his gaze back to the phone in dismissal. “If we want Sophie back alive, we have to do exactly as the kidnappers say. We have to trust that all they want is money. But I won’t give them one red cent until they provide proof of life.”
“When should we expect another call?” Rae asked nervously.
“I don’t know. I was told to stay close to the phone.”
She nodded. “Then I’ll handle the financial arrangements. Jackson can stay here with you.”
“I’ve already phoned Glen Stafford,” West said, referring to their longtime banker. “I didn’t give him specifics and he didn’t ask for any. We’ve done business long enough that my word is good enough for him. All you need to do is go down to the bank in a few hours, sign the papers and bring the money straight back here.”
“A few hours? How is that possible? First National is a small bank,” Rae said. “They don’t have that kind of cash on hand, do they?”
“Leave the details to Glen. He said he’d have the money. He’ll have the money.”
Jackson turned from the window. “If you already had it worked out with the bank, then why didn’t you say so? Why put me through hell with all that talk about getting my house in order? You couldn’t have waited until we have Sophie back to tear into me?”
“I told you some hard truths,” West said. “When this is all over, we’re going to make some changes around here, starting with you two.” He pointed a finger at first Jackson and then Lauren. She stiffened, but didn’t turn away. “No more expensive trips, no more shopping sprees, no more anything until you work yourselves out of debt. As for you.” He turned to Rae. “I’ve always had complete faith in your judgment, but if you’re going soft on Tom Brannon, I may have to rethink my position.”
She frowned. “I’m not going soft. I’m just trying to be fair.”
“Was it fair that Porter Brannon’s daughter came home and mine didn’t? Was it fair that his son left those young girls alone in the house that night? Nothing about this situation is fair, Rae. Keep your head on straight and let’s just get through this. We’ll deal with Tom Brannon later.”
* * *
“SHERIFF?”
Tom turned to find Angie back at his door, this time with her purse hooked over her shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
“It’s Friday noon. I’m out of here until Monday morning.”
“Is it that late already?” He glanced at his watch. The hours had flown by.
“Boy Wonder’s in the back,” she said, referring to Noah Goodnight. “He says he’s found something on Sophie’s phone that you should take a look at.”
Tom nodded. “I’m headed that way now. You have a good weekend.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“I’ll call you back in if I need you. Otherwise, go home and relax.”
“Thanks. I intend to. You try to get some rest, too. You’ve been up all night and half the day. You look like hell,” she said in her usual direct manner.
“I feel that way, too.” Tom followed her out into the squad room and they parted ways as he headed down the hallway to the back of the building to find his deputy.
A graduate of Sam Houston University with dual degrees in criminal justice and forensic studies, Noah Goodnight was one of Tom’s most successful recruits. Tom was under no illusion that a deputy of Noah’s caliber would remain in a place like Belle Pointe forever. He’d eventually get bored and move on to greener pastures, most likely to a midsize city like Tyler at first and then to Dallas or Fort Worth. Tom would never be able to match the incentives or salary of a big-city police department, but for as long as Noah remained in Nance County, Tom intended to take full advantage of the man’s skills.
He pushed open the door and nodded to both Noah and Craig Jarvis, the senior detective in Criminal Investigations. Craig was a twenty-year veteran on the force. He wasn’t flashy or cocky like some of the younger officers. He preferred the background to the limelight, and his hunched shoulders and easygoing demeanor could sometimes be mistaken for a man cruising toward retirement. He and Tom had been partners early in Tom’s career, and he’d quickly learned that beneath Craig’s low-key exterior lurked a clever and determined investigator. He had been the first to encourage Tom to run for his dad’s old office, the first to congratulate him when he won and the first to stand shoulder to shoulder with him when resentment had reared its ugly head in the department.
Tom pulled up a stool and sat down at a counter across from Noah. “You’ve got something for me?”
The young deputy gave him a brief nod. “Two things. The blood analysis came back from the sample that was collected last night at the Ruins. It’s not a match for Sophie Cavanaugh or Marty Booker.”
“So we have conclusive proof a third person was in that building last night,” Tom said.
“It’s not a match for Silas Creed, either, for whatever that’s worth,” Craig added.
“No big surprise there,�
� Tom said. “But it’s always good to eliminate every possibility, no matter how slight. What else?”
The younger officer held up the pink encased cell phone Tom had found in the boiler room. “I’ve been going through Sophie’s text messages. It’s mostly just high school stuff, but I came across a series of group texts that could be important.”
“I’m all ears,” Tom said.
“There are four people texting back and forth in this particular group, including Sophie, Dylan Moody and Hannah Tucker. I haven’t been able to trace the fourth number to anyone in Sophie’s contacts. They’ve all replaced the letters in their names with symbols. See?” He turned the screen so they could take a look. “Those kids have been going out to the Ruins for weeks. I think they’re involved in some sort of game.”
“I saw Hannah and Dylan at Rae Cavanaugh’s house this morning,” Tom said. “They told me flat out they didn’t go out to the Ruins anymore and had no idea why Sophie would have gone there alone.”
“They told me the same thing,” Craig said.
Noah shrugged. “Kids lie all the time. Question is, why are these two lying?”
“What do you think these symbols mean?” Tom asked.
“Think of them as Monopoly pieces. Each player has a unique token. Remember the photos of the Ruins that Rae Cavanaugh found on Sophie’s laptop? When I blew up the images, I found these same symbols on some of the walls inside the building.” He turned the laptop around so that Tom and Craig could scrutinize the images.
Tom leaned in to get a better look.
“From what I can piece together from the texts, the rules of the game are pretty simple,” Noah said. “The first player enters the Ruins, probably at night, to hide his or her symbol somewhere inside the building. On a wall, on the floor, the ceiling, wherever. The second player arrives on a different night with the objective of finding the first player’s symbol. Player Number Two then hides his or her symbol elsewhere so that the third player has to find both. They go deeper into the building with each trip and the game becomes riskier. The more symbols a player finds, the more points he or she is awarded. It’s kind of like a scavenger hunt.”
“A creepy scavenger hunt, if you ask me,” Craig muttered.
“That’s not even the creepiest part,” Noah said. “The symbols seem to represent people who were connected to the disappearances of those girls fifteen years ago.”
“You’re right. That is creepier.”
“Connected how?” Tom asked.
“Sophie’s symbol is a gemstone—a Riley. Dylan Moody uses a six-point star.” Noah pointed to the badge clipped to Tom’s belt. “Your father was sheriff back then. The star probably represents your sister or you or maybe even your whole family. Hannah Tucker uses a lightning bolt. That one took me a while to figure out. Then I remembered that the girl who was found wandering on the side of the road—Jenna Malloy—was in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years. The lightning bolt is probably meant to represent electroshock therapy. The fourth player uses a cross.”
Tom felt a chill along his spine. “Preacher?”
Craig gave a low whistle. “Now Booker’s account is starting to make sense. When he told you that Preacher had taken Sophie, we assumed in his confusion he meant Silas Creed. But what if he saw this Preacher?”
Tom nodded. “He also said, ‘I see them, but they don’t see me.’ I assume he meant the players.” He turned back to Noah. “So the fourth player—Preacher—is the number you haven’t been able to track down.”
“I tried calling and texting. Nothing. No voice mail or anything. I figure it’s a burner that got tossed after the prepaid minutes were used up. We can trace the number back to the point of purchase, but that takes time and it still may not tell us who bought the phone.”
Tom glanced at Craig. “Is Marty Booker still in lockup?”
“His sister picked him up a little while ago.”
“We’ll need to bring him in again. Or better yet, see if you can talk to him at his sister’s house. He may feel less threatened in a friendly environment. We’ll need to bring in Hannah Tucker and Dylan Moody, too. Call their parents and get them to agree to a time. Let’s do this by the book.”
“I’m on it.”
“Any objection to me running out to the Ruins and taking a look at these symbols in person?” Noah asked. “I don’t think there’s much else to be found on Sophie’s phone.”
“Go ahead.” Tom pushed the stool up under the counter. “Both of you keep me posted. I’m on my way out to the Cavanaugh ranch. Sophie’s parents should be back in town by now. I’ll see if they know anything about this game. At the very least, maybe they can tell me if Sophie has made any new friends recently.”
Craig stuffed his notebook into his pocket. “Does it seem strange to anyone but me that none of the Cavanaughs have been by the station this morning? They’re not exactly shrinking violets. You’d think they’d want an update on the investigation. If it were my daughter or granddaughter, I’d be camping out on your doorstep.”
“A lot of things about this case are strange,” Tom said.
Chapter Six
Rae picked up the money at the bank after lunch and then left through Glen Stafford’s private entrance to avoid curious stares. She didn’t ask how he’d managed to come up with the cash so quickly. She was just grateful he didn’t ask questions.
Storing the bag in the back seat of her SUV, she eased around the building and pulled onto the street. She tried to remain calm and alert, but she felt as if a big target had been painted on her back. All the way home she kept an eye on the rearview mirror. Even though she didn’t see any suspicious vehicles behind her, she didn’t rule out the possibility of a tail. For all she knew, she could have been followed from the moment she left the ranch.
Gripping the steering wheel, she shifted her focus to the road ahead of her. The county highway had plenty of cutoffs and wooded areas where someone could lie in wait. She was starting to feel a little paranoid, but if her dad’s hunch was right, the whole family could be under surveillance.
Turning off the main road, she breathed a sigh of relief as she drove through the metal archway. She felt safer now that she was on her home turf, but she didn’t let down her guard until the house was in sight. Even then, her reprieve was short-lived. A full-size SUV sped up the driveway toward her. Panic welled until she spotted the lights across the top of the cab. She couldn’t see the driver or the emblem on the door, but she knew the visitor was Tom Brannon.
Rae bit her lip, wondering if she should pretend she didn’t see him and take the money inside or if she should wait for him beside her vehicle. Might be a good idea to speak to him first before he talked to the others. She could at least find out what he wanted. If he had news of Sophie, then she would be able to prepare her family.
She got out and locked the doors, then lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched the vehicle’s approach. The day was hot and humid. She could feel dampness gathering between her shoulder blades, but the perspiration was more from nerves than heat. She pulled the T-shirt away from her skin and tried to assume a poised demeanor as she waited for the big SUV to circle the driveway.
Tom Brannon got out and strode toward her, tall and formidable, a man on a mission. His cuffs were rolled back, and he’d loosened his collar and tie in the heat. He might have been anyone from a businessman to a cowboy save for the glint of his badge and the gun at his hip.
Rae took a step toward him. “Tom? What are you doing here? What’s happened? Have you found Sophie?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Thank goodness.” She drew a sharp breath. “That came out wrong. I don’t mean I’m thankful you haven’t found her. It’s just—”
“I know what you meant.” He walked over to where she waited beside her car. Her heart skipped a beat when he g
lanced through the tinted windows. The bag sat on the back seat, in plain sight if he peered closely enough. “It’s a difficult time for your family.”
“You’ve no idea.” She shifted her position, drawing his attention away from her vehicle.
He stared across the space between them, peering into her eyes instead of through the car window. The effect did nothing to ease Rae’s disquiet. She could see herself mirrored in his sunglasses. She looked pale and anxious and not altogether trustworthy. Abruptly, she turned away.
Tom said, “I told you earlier I need to talk to the rest of the family. I never heard back from you about a time.”
“I’m sorry. I meant to let you know. I’m not thinking too clearly right now.”
He nodded. “No problem. I saw you in town just now. I tried to flag you down, but I guess you didn’t see me.”
She turned back to him in distress. “You saw me in town? Where?”
“You were pulling onto the highway. I figured you were on your way to the ranch.”
“You followed me?”
“I was headed out here anyway.” He took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. “Is your brother back yet?”
The question sounded routine, yet Rae detected a subtle note of annoyance—or was that suspicion?—in his voice. She tried to swallow past her anxiety, but the steadiness of his gaze sent a ripple of awareness along her spine. Tom Brannon was nobody’s fool. He could tell from her behavior that something was wrong. He would give her some leeway because of the situation, but that would go only so far before he started picking apart her body language.
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